Just Breathe
by moosesweaters
Summary: The worst turn of events that could've possibly happened did; Nat was told she had cancer, then was slapped in the face with a month to live. She is seemingly ready to accept her fate, when she comes face to face with a stranger, one offering her a seemingly impossible escape from an untimely death. But it's the only chance she's got to live again, right?
1. A Broken Pair of Lungs

_"You have one month; that's what the tests are showing. I'm so sorry, Natalie. It's just...the tumor is in a place in your lungs we can't get to. The surgery to remove it has a 5% survival rate, and we don't want to risk it. The only option we have for you is chemo, and that will not 100% guarantee that the tumor will go away. You can choose whether or not to do it, we're putting absolutely no pressure on you."_

_"I...I don't want to do chemo. It'll just make me feel more like crap than I already, and the odds are that I'm most likely going to die anyway."_

_"Okay. I'll tell your mother of your decisions. I wish you luck, Nat."_

_"Thanks. I'll need it."_

_The nurse got up out of her chair and walked to the door, before turning and looking back to Natalie._

_"Nat, I'm always here to talk. You know what, I'll give you my cellphone number. You can call or text me if something comes up that you can't talk with anyone else about." She smiled and jotted down a number on a piece of prescription paper, handing it to me._

_"Thanks again." A faint smile passed over Natalie's face._

**. . . . .**

My life had been measured down to one month. I had been absolutely shocked when I found out I had cancer; it had just started as a routine check-up. They started taking me in every week or so to do tests and blood work and medical things that one was tested positive with cancer. I was completely devastated when I was given thirty-one days to live. It didn't just seem like enough time, to be honest. I had a whole 80+ years going for me and now it was shrunken down to was less than a fraction of that. I was given that news two weeks ago, and from that point forward, I had become...adjusted to the idea of dying. It wasn't so much as "I have accepted death and I am ready for it right now" as it was "I'm going to die. Everyone dies eventually, some just sooner than others". I think most people would be crying or doing all that they could to make the remainder of their life the best possible one they could ever imagine. I was content with just being alone, napping and walking in the forest. Those were pretty much the only things I could do anyway, because I was feeling drained all of the time and I was slowly becoming dependent on an oxygen tank. And I really didn't want to go out in public lugging that thing around, people staring at me and asking me questions. That would just be absolute torture. In the next week, I'd probably be in the hospital, hooked up to machines as doctors fed me morphine through tubes into my arms and kept a close watch on me. I would've preferred to stay at home in my dying moments, but my nurse suggested that I could bring pillows and blankets and things from home to make the room I'd be staying in "more homey". I couldn't disagree with her, and in seven days I'd be in a hospital bed.

A week earlier I had asked my mom if I could drop out of school, ya' know, since I was going to be - uhm - no longer living before the semester even ended; she said yes, and I went later that day to collect the things from locker. A few people smiled and waved at me, and I just tried my best to ignore them. I felt kind of guilty about the whole "going into school and seeming like everything is normal when I'm really here to collect my things because I'm going to be dead in like three weeks". The truth is, the only people that knew about the tumor was my mother, my nurse and the various other doctors that diagnosed me. I wanted to keep it confidential, but I didn't want to have my death be a surprise to anyone; that would be cruel.

I took all of my folders out of the locker and shoved them into my backpack. I did the same with the pictures and decorations in my locker, leaving only my textbooks. I'd have to return them to my old teachers, a thing I was dreading. I decided upon doing it during passing times, so I wouldn't be stared at as I interrupted classes. That would bring up more questions like "why was she not in class?" and "why is she returning a textbook it's not even close to being the second semester". I slung the now-heavy backpack onto my shoulder, the books cradled in my arms. There were a few minutes before classes would start, so I quickly made my way to the closest classroom to return the first of four textbooks.

I successfully returned the first one without any questions or stares; I assumed all of the teachers and faculty members got a letter saying that I would no longer be attending Beacon Hills High. The first period had begun, and I made my way to the library to wait. I had two classes near there, so I could quickly drop off two more books. I'd only have one more book to drop off, and then I could go home. I really just wanted to leave right now, to go home and nap, but I still had those three more textbooks to drop. I wouldn't be surprised if I fell asleep in the library. As I entered, I saw a few stray people sitting about, and one person sitting behind the furthest bookshelf from the door; he was probably skipping class. I took a seat at an empty table, away from the majority of the sparse population of the room. I set the books down as gently as I could on the table, and flopped my backpack into the chair next to mine. I took a seat and leaned back in it, crossing my legs at the ankles. The room was quite, the only sound being the _click click click _of computer keys and the _woosh woosh woosh _of the ceiling fans.

**.**

I pulled my head up from hanging off the back of the chair, the position starting to hurt my neck. First period would be over in a matter of minutes and I spent the whole hour watching the ceiling fans and daydreaming about a walk in the forest. At least no one had interrupted me.

I gathered up my books and threw on my backpack again, already heading for the door. I was a minute or so walk away from the closest classroom, which was one of the two that I'd try to return a textbook to. I got up from the seat, only a minute and a half until the bell was to ring, not wanting to waste any time.

I was nearly to the classroom when the bell rung. Doors all the way down the hallway flew open, and herds of students emerged from each room. I moved quicker, now within seconds of the classroom I needed to get into; sadly, high schoolers are jerks and I was too busy and focused to pay attention. Some asswipe decided to stick out his foot, and my foot caught on his ankle, causing me to trip. My books went flying forward, I was pulled downward and everybody stopped moving. I could feel it, all eyes were on me, and I could hear that asswipe snickering. Everyone resumed what they were doing, moving along to their classes. I laid there on the ground for a second before pushing myself up, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Someone had moved and was in front of me, collecting my books. After the person collected them, he helped me stand up, grabbed me by the elbow. I pushed my hair out of my face, and caught sight of him. He was tan and had dark hair that was sort of spiked up. He looked...familiar. I was pretty sure I'd seen him before, but I couldn't place a finger on where.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, dragging my sweatshirt sleeve across my face. "Just give me a second." I brushed off my clothes and turned swiftly on my sneaker heel, looking directly at the asswipe who tripped me. I strode over to him, grabbed his shirt collar, and pulling him slightly downward with as much force as I could muster. "Listen here, asswipe," I started in a low voice. I could tell he was surprised already, having the girl he tripped yank him down to face here. "You just tripped me. Yeah, great for you, that totally gets you places in life. But in a surprising plot twist to your already cruel joke, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer a week ago. You're fucking lucky that cancer isn't contagious, because I could be coughing up a storm on you right now." I released his shirt collar, staring him straight in the face before turning to face the mysteriously familiar boy.

"Thanks for getting my books and helping me up." I took the three remaining books from him, and he nodded, glancing past me. His jaw set to one side noticeably, before he returned to his previous facial expression. He looked at me too, instead of looking past me.

"I'm Scott. Scott McCall."

"Natalie King." That's when it hit me.

"Thanks for getting my books and helping me up." I took the three remaining books from him, and he nodded, glancing past me. His jaw set to one side noticeably, before he returned to his previous facial expression. He looked at me too, instead of looking past me.

"I'm Scott. Scott McCall."

"Natalie King." That's when it hit me. _McCall_. Scott was Melissa's son. She'd shown me a picture of him before, when I mentioned that I had went to Beacon Hills High School, right after she was assigned as my nurse. They look alike, and I'm surprised I hadn't noticed it before. Well, I hadn't been to the hospital often enough before, and I didn't particularly hang out with anyone. I threw those thoughts to the back of my head and returned quickly to my "hurry up and drop off these books" quest, darting into the room a few feet ahead.

**.**

I somehow managed to return all of my books before lunch started. I left the school, walking out to my beaten up pick-up truck, parked next to a blue jeep. I hopped in and drove home, only one thing on my mind; sleep. Returning to school had been more traumatic than I was hoping for.


	2. Horror Movie Thriller

I spent most of today napping on the couch that occupied the middle of the living room, curled up with a huge blanket and hooked up to the oxygen tank. I had come down from my room around six-thirty, ate breakfast, then moved to the couch and slept for several hours before my mom woke me up for lunch. I went back to sleep after eating again and didn't wake up until seven-ish. Not only was I tired all the time, but the crap sleeping schedule that my body had made up was keeping me up all night. I was sort of okay with that, because I didn't have to worry about something urgent happening and my mom not knowing what was going on. I'd rather sleep in front of her if something like that happened.

I ate dinner by myself, which consisted of macaroni and cheese with bacon in it that I had to microwave. My mom had left to go and look at new dishwashers, since the one that was currently occupying the kitchen had decided that it had had enough with the dirty dishes, and wanted to live out its life-long dream of becoming a piece of scrap metal that would be turned into a soda can. I huddled up in my blankets with a bowl full of the macaroni and watched a little pre-late night television. That was when most of the good stuff was on. After a half an hour or so I decided to go for a walk; I put my bowl and fork into the sink and went up the stairs to my room. I emptied out my backpack and filled it with things I might need; a flashlight, my phone, and the inhaler that Melissa had suggested that I carry around for emergencies when I didn't have the oxygen tank. I changed out of my heavy pajamas and into some "regular clothes", practically the same outfit I wore when I went back to Beacon Hills High School last week. I texted my mom that I was leaving the house so she wouldn't go into a crazy frenzy looking for me and calling the police when she returned home. I was leaving tomorrow for the hospital, and she would have to return to work; after all, I'd be in a place full of doctors and nurses, so she shouldn't be as worried about my well-being as she usually was.

I got into my truck and drove into a little gravel parking lot that had trails leading into the forest, slowly turning from the gravel of the parking lot to the dirt and debris that littered the forest floor. It was going to start dark soon, so I had to make this walk a quick one unless I wanted to be wandering through the darkness with a flashlight that I hadn't even checked for batteries. Let's hope that if I needed it, the light wouldn't just flicker off like it had better business elsewhere. That would put a total damper on things, and I'd have to somehow manage my way back to my truck with the weak light that came off of my phone. I know, I'd walked the trail so many times in the past month - actually, almost everyday - but I didn't have the thing memorized. Why would I need to?

The air was already starting to chill, although it wouldn't drop down much father. As long as the weather didn't decide on a whim to become windy, I'd be fine in just my sweatshirt. Just in case, I pulled an old Carhartt jacket out from the backseat and stuffed it into the backpack. I threw the thing on, slamming shut the truck door and locking it, shoving the keys into my jeans pocket. I started towards the marked path, hoping that I wouldn't need to make an emergency call to have someone come and find me in the forest.

**. . . . .**

"Derek, you have to help her." Scott slammed his fists down onto the table the Derek was seated at. He was practically growling, but he didn't care at the moment.

"Why should I?" Derek tossed his eyebrows up, staring at his shoes which were resting on the table, crossed at the ankles.

"Well, first off, _she's dying. _Do you need any other reason?"

"And how do you know that she's dying?"

"I heard her say so."

"How do you know she wasn't ly-"

"_She wasn't lying, Derek._ Her pulse didn't pick up even a little bit, and I could smell it on her. She smelled like Gerard had." Derek's eyes were hard on his shoes, like he didn't want to cave in and that somehow looking at Scott would do that. If anyone, Isaac would be the one to make someone crack, pulling a complete puppy-dog face and the whole sha-bang. But Scott was determined, determined to make Derek at least consider giving the girl the bite. He switched from his previous fighting voice to a softer, pleading one. "C'mon Derek, she deserves it more than the rest of us."

Derek sighed, pulling his feet from the table and bringing them to the floor. He looked to Scott, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward slightly.

"You need to find her first. Did it even occur to you that I would need to bite her? And you've only seen her once."

Scott withheld a smile of triumph, with great difficulty.

"Well, the only hospital in the area is Beacon Hills Hospital, so she has to be going there for check-ups."

"And how are you going to find out when she'll be there next?"

"I haven't got that part figured out yet, but I think I have an idea."

Derek sighed, pushing up from his seat to a standing position.

"If you plan on doing anything stupid, bring Isaac with you."

**. . . . .**

"Now isn't that just ironic."

The forest in front of me was laden with red poppies; that couldn't just be coincidental. It was like the universe was trying to one-up her dark humor. The irony that the flowers held was two-faced; my middle name happened to be Poppy, and a red poppy symbolized sleep, peace, and _death. _I stooped down, picking a dozen or so, and returned to standing. I took one from the other twelve and stuck it behind my ear, shoving the rest into a side pocket on my backpack. I'd put them in a vase when I got home. Er, scratch that. I'd probably forget they were in the side pocket and leave them all there to dry put and turn into dead, crispy flowers. If I actually did remember, I'd bring the vase of poppies to the hospital with me. My last trip out to the forest would be contained within that jar full of water and flowers that would die as quickly as I was predicted to.

I kept a steady walking pace, my hands stuffed into the big pocket on the front of my sweatshirt, the inhaler pressed against my palm. I should've brought the oxygen tank with me, but I didn't want to lug that heavy thing around and I didn't think it would fare well with the non-flat terrain of the forest. That would just be hell, let alone trying to drag it out if darkness approached quicker than it already was. I could already see the moon beginning to shine between the trees; it was just barely past the first quarter. I walked a bit more, watching the moon as it slowly but steadily cast its silver glow onto the ground below as the visible light became less and less by the minute.

Stopping at a fork in the now barely discernible path that I had been taking, I turned around and began going in the direction I had came from. I was able to walk for a minute or so before I needed to stop and take out my flashlight. I pulled the straps off my arms and swung it in front of me, setting it on the ground. I unzipped the bag and plunged my hand into it, having to dig beneath the heavy Carhartt jacket to get to what I needed. I stood there for a bit, dragging my hand around in the backpack for the light. I found it eventually, and pulled it out. I zipped the backpack back up and threw it over one shoulder, then threaded my arm through the other arm-hole.

I hadn't even clicked on the flashlight when I heard something. The first though that crossed my mind was, _oh god, I'm in a horror movie, aren't I?_ I clicked on the flashlight and swung it around my immediate area. Then I said the stupidest thing I could possibly think of at that moment.

"Hello?"

If I was actually in a horror movie right now, two out of three in the usual line-up already happened; I looked around for the murder or monster or whatever the hell the thing that was pursuing me was and I had asked the question that almost every single Mary Jane horror movie character had said. The only thing that was left was for the battery in my flashlight to run out. And as if on cue, as if the flashlight was secretly a mind-reader in disguise because he needed to escape from the law, the light flickered, and then went out. Of all of the things that could've happened to me tonight, this specific line-up of things had to be happening. It was like I was in a super low-budget horror film that was meant to be a drama and slowly turn into an action-filled horror. Well, I've got to say, this movie is one crap film.

"You have got to be joking."

I hit the head of the flashlight against my palm several times, the light flickering on one before going out as quickly as it had come back. The area was completely dark now, the only light coming from the moon, which was scattered and broken by the trees.

******.**

"M-Melissa?"

"Natalie? Is something wrong?"

"I-It's just I was walking, a-and my flashlight, the light. A-and the noise-" I stammered quickly, seemingly not in control of my own words. I had a feeling that everything I had been holding back, especially the tears, since I was diagnosed was coming out now.

"Nat, honey, slow down. Where are you?"

"F-forest. Near the high s-school."

There was a short silence before Melissa responded, her voice carrying a slight sound of fear.

"Natalie, listen to me. Stay right where you are, and do not move _at all. _I am sending Scott to come and get you."

I nodded, giving only a whimper in response.

"Nat, I have to go. Scott will be there soon, don't worry. Everything will be okay."

She hung up, and I just clutched my phone in my hand, like if I let it go that her promise would be broken and Scott would never come and get me.


	3. That Went Well

It's like everything was happening at once, quickly but in slow motion. It was hard to explain. Kind of like when you run on a treadmill and then get off, how you feel like you're moving faster than you actually are. Except this was happening in my brain. Things were skipping, other things taking way too long to play out. Was this a panic attack? A panic gripped me to the core, squeezing around my rib cage and making its way through that gaps in the bones, moving right to my heart to nestle in. I was shaking uncontrollably, my phone gripped in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Tears made their way down my face, as uncontrollable as the shaking. I was honestly surprised I hadn't fallen over for how spastic it was. This had to be a panic attack, unless this was just some weird process that my body was doing to get rid of all my pent-up emotions that I hadn't known I was holding. There were spots dancing across my vision, and the only way I could tell was because they would block out sections of silver light that I knew was there before. Sounds were a bit garbled and hard to catch what was going on, but I could make them out for the most part, and that was what matter. I could tell for the most part what was going on.

Sounds suddenly bombarded my brain. I could hear the sound of a motorbike hitting gravel and snapping branches at the same time. Well, they were happening all at once and it was really hard to make out which sound came first, but the branch-snapping one continued and became louder and louder. Well, at least I think it did. I couldn't really tell, with it moving all around. I stooped down, putting all my weight to my waist to keep my balanced. Still shaking, I lowered my head into the gap between my chest and knees, covering my head with my hands as quickly as possible. The sounds didn't sound like a _good _thing, more like a horror movie thing. A crash. Something chasing after me; I wasn't moving, so chasing wouldn't be the right word. _Hunting _would be. It was coming directly for me.

"Natalie!" The voice was all over the place, changing pitch and moving around; but I knew it was Scott. It had to be. He was the only person that knew where I was, or even my name for that matter. There was a select few of people that actually had cared to remember my name, the only two of which being my mother and Melissa. My name was just tossed around by other people and didn't really hold any meaning to them, other than a student or a patient. "Natalie!" he yelled again. I knew he was looking for me, but I wasn't going to move. I was going to stay put, not moving a muscle, the exception being my shaking. I didn't have control of the muscles that were making me do that.

The voice was close, and the branch snapping had slowed to a stop. Something touched me and I flinched, tightening into my protective stance a little more, if that was even possible.

"Natalie."

The voice was soft and close, and it was the only thing that I heard that wasn't garbled from the panic attack. I could make it out clearly, and it lingered in my mind for a moment like it was seeping into every crevice my brain had to offer. I slowly lifted my head up, moving my hands off my head equally as slow, to reveal the face of Scott that was pinched with worry.

"Are you okay?"

Those words. The same words. The same words as before... It took me a second before I nodded at his question, bringing my hands to rest in my lap. I probably looked doe-eyed right now, having been completely terrified. I had just scared myself up a monster. But it was over now. I didn't feel utterly terrified, and the visual and sound effects from the panic attack were slowly fading away.

Scott scanned me over, like he was making sure that I was completely okay and absolutely nothing had gone wrong. When he was completely sure I was okay and unharmed, he took one of my hands and led it over his shoulder. He moved in his crouching position, so he had leverage on one foot, and then picked me up, bridal style. I gripped the collar on the back of his shirt for dear life, as I was not anticipating that. The words "you don't have to" formed in my brain but never physically made it out of my mouth. I felt like my brain had turned to mush and I was now just a shell that couldn't process words and situations, only little movements.

He moved forward, towards the direction of my truck and his motorbike. Well, at least I was pretty sure we were heading in that direction. I don't even know how he could see out here, it was so damn dark. I would have a hard time managing, even with my flashlight. I'd probably end up getting even more lost than I had been when I had called Melissa.

**.**

Scott had gotten us back to the little gravel parking lot, and he set me down on my feet. Apparently he had completely ditched his bike when he came to find me, because it was overturned and a little bit buried in the gravel. I was still shaking a bit, but more likely from the cold now than anything else. He was standing close, as if him being nearby gave some sort of emotional support that would stop me from lapsing into another panic attack.

"I can take you home, or to the hospital if you want."

"Uh, home would be good. I'm going to the hospital tomorrow anyway."

"Okay. Mind if I drive? You seem a little shook up."

"No, yeah, go right ahead. You can just throw your bike in the back."

A blue jeep suddenly appeared out of nowhere and skidded into the parking lot like the person had turned at the last minute, just now seeing the parking lot. It sent dirt and gravel flying, and the wheels fought for traction before it came to a complete–and abrupt, I might add–stop. Someone jumped out, not even bothering to turn off the engine or close the driver's side door.

"Scott! Is she okay?" A person ran from the car yelling, and almost tripped in the process. He. The person was a he.

"Stiles–"

"What happened? Did anyone find her?" He began circling me, and I leaned away from him each time he took a step. I wouldn't be surprised if he lifted up my arms and moved my head, because the way he was walking and looking me over suggested he was looking me over for bruises and bite marks. He returned to his rapid-fire questions shortly after he began to walk around me. "Derek? The Argents? Lydia–" He ran a hand over his face, slowing his walk slightly. "Wait, it can't be Lydia, she's not dead."

"Stiles–"

"And most importantly–"

"Stiles!" Stiles paused in his walk and turned to looked at Scott. "How did you even know we were here?"

"Uh, went to your house. You weren't there, so I tracked the GPS on your phone. You know, you should really lock your bedroom window. Also you may or may not find a broken lamp when you get home. Heh, sorry about that." He looked over his shoulder at me, momentarily pointing a thumb in the same direction. "Nice truck by the way."

"Thanks..?" Where had this kid come from? I hadn't seen him before and knew completely nothing about him, other than his name was Stiles. Stiles? What kind of a name is Stiles? But by the way the two interacted, and the whole _hey Scott I broke into your house and broke a lamp _thing, I assumed they were friends. Okay, more like best friends. They conversed a bit more, but I heard nothing of what they said because they were speaking in furious whispers.

A coughing fit suddenly seized me out of nowhere, at first little ones, but they slowly progressed into bigger, more painful ones. I doubled over, holding my stomach. This was exactly why Melissa had given me the inhaler; in my last week of life, my lungs would start giving up, not wanting to work properly and provide me with much-needed oxygen. I moved the hand that was on my stomach across the big pocket on my sweatshirt, but I could find it. I lost my inhaler. Between gasps and coughs, I managed a "shit". As the coughing fit continued, I slowly lowered to the ground with each cough and gasp until I was on my hands and knees, one hand still on my stomach. Scott and Stiles were above me, and both clearly panicked. I knew if I didn't get sufficient air into my lungs soon, I'd end up passing out.

"What is it, is she having an asthma attack?"

"Lungs. My mom said something about her lungs. Uh, she had a tumor or something."

"Anything else that could help us?"

"She gave her an inhaler.

"What do we do?"

"Treat it like an asthma attack. Best chance we have right now. If she had the inhaler, she would've used it by now."

I could see spots again before me. That wasn't a good sign. I heard someone running away from me and a series of noises I didn't recognize, and then the footsteps came back. Something was shoved in front of my face and I took it, instantly knowing that it was an inhaler by the feel of it. I shook it, even though I was pretty sure Scott haa already done so. I pressed down the canister that contained the life-giving air so hard I thought I might break the thing and breathed it in. I coughed for a little bit after that, but in all my breathing returned to normal. I was able to stand up with the help of both Scott and Stiles, each one lifting me up by an arm. I felt drained. Even more drained than usual. I guess my body had decided to take its turn down the hill of death.

"Is that...normal?" The question came from Stiles. He sounded a little concerned, like I had coughed up blood and guts.

"No, not normal," I said. "Well, actually, probably normal from here on out."

The two helped me to the passenger side of the truck, Stiles opening the door and Scott helping me in. The latter asked free first to help him put his bike in the back of the pick-up, and it hit the bed of the truck with a small metallic thunk. Scott hopped into the driver's side and I handed him the key, which he jammed into the ignition and twisted to start the car. Stiles ran over to his jeep and hopped in, slamming the door. Scott backed out and drove right up to Stiles's window.

"Stiles, you should probably follow us, in case anything else happens," Scott said, and Stiles grinned.

"Good thing I just so happened to have this with me." He pulled up a thing that looked like an upside-down jar in the low light. He flipped a switch and a red light began sweeping around. "Cool, eh?" He reached his hand out the window and stuck it on the top of his jeep. "Police escort, at your service."

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't have the energy to, so I just told the two my address. Stiles took the front, and Scott follow him.

**.**

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I lost the inhaler your mom gave me; she's going to kill me. I had it for one day."

He smiled slightly, and I wasn't exactly sure why. I judged that it wasn't best to ask why, so I kept quite the rest of the ride home.


	4. Hospitals Are the Worst

"You didn't have to come and get me, I could've driven myself."

"Yeah, well my mom wanted to make sure you got to the hospital safely." Scott put his motorbike in the back of the truck, like he did the night before.

I threw the remainder of the things I was bringing to the hospital with me into the back of the truck. Since last night, I began to use the oxygen tank all the time. It was a pain to carry up and down the stairs, but at least I wouldn't fall into a fit of coughing and gasping and not being able to breathe again. I finally decided to stop being stubborn and use the little cart that came with it, but that was only to bring it outside.

"I assume you'll be driving again?"

"Your assumption is correct."

I sighed a little and shoved a hand into my pocket, tossing the key over the back of the truck to Scott, who caught it.

"Natalie?"

"Nat. You can call me Nat. I probably should've told you before, but yeah, back to what you were saying?"

"Don't worry about the inhaler. I might have accidentally just stretched the truth a little when I mentioned it to my mom."

**.**

"Hurray," I said sarcastically, "I get to wear an oversized apron."

"They're not that bad," Melissa said, handing me the thin dressing gown.

"They're really thin and whenever you roll over or move, _bam, _stray breeze coming through that feels like it's going to turn you to ice."

"Okay, maybe they kind of suck," she finally said, with a slight smile perking up in the corner of her mouth. "I'll leave you in here to get changed and settled in. I'll be back in about ten minutes, so I can get you all hooked up to those machines." She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before going to the door.

"Melissa?"

She was just about to shut the door, her hand reaching for the door handle. She twisted at the waist so she was looking at me.

"Yeah?"

"I hate hospitals."

She smiled, closing the door behind her.

I sighed as she closed the door, not really wanting to change out of my warm clothes into that terribly breezy dressing gown. I threw it out on the bed in front of me, having to take off the tubes that went around my face to provide me with oxygen. It felt strange, not having to rely on the thing to breathe. Granted, it was harder, but I was breathing real air; gross, sick people air. But it was better than breathing in the air from a canister. I was surprised that they hadn't started making oxygen tanks scented, so the air you breathed in smelled great.

I pulled off my clothes reluctantly and deliberately slow, wanting to stay warm for as long as possible. I took everything off, excluding my underwear and socks. I didn't want my feet to get cold, so I was keeping the socks, even if I was going to be dead in a few days. Cold feet were not worth that. Whilst I was changing, I noticed how bony I had actually gotten. I guess imminent death made you lose weight. You could see it better on my face; my cheekbones poked out slightly and there were small hollows below them, my eyes looked a bit sunken and the sleep lines under my eyes had gotten darker and bigger. At least I didn't start loosing my hair. It was thinning a bit, yeah, but it wasn't falling out. Well, scratch that. It might start happening. I hadn't been paying much attention to my appearance lately, only making sure that I was wearing proper clothes and that my hair and teeth were brushed. Mirrors hadn't been an everyday thing for me in the first place. I only lingered long enough in front of one to make sure that I looked presentable.

I stuffed my clothes into a small dresser that had been placed by my bedside, taking up the top shelf. My backpack was sitting in one of the chair, and the vase with a few of the poppies was on the table that sat next to it. I shuffled over to them, picking both of them up and moving them over to the dresser. I shoved the pillow and blanket I had brought into the second drawer, because I was sure Melissa or someone else would get them if I wanted them. I left the other things in the bag, dropping it on the ground next to the dresser. I set the vase down near the edge of the dresser so it was close to the bed, so I could see it when I would have to be laying down all the time. It would suck, having the lie here for a week and slowly degrade until either my heart stopped or my lungs stopped working. I was betting on the latter to happen first.

I crawled up onto the edge of the bed, sitting on it with my feet almost touching the floor. I breathed in one last gulp of air before deciding to put the tubes that connected me to oxygen back on. I hunched over, my elbows resting on my knees. It was all coming to me now. This was it. I was going to die here and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Tears were stinging in the corners of my eyes.

The door opened unexpectedly and my first instinct was to cover myself up with the blanket and throw one of the two pillows that were on the bed at the person who walked in. Instead I just sat there, hunched over, my eyes threatening to spill tears and my lower lip quivering.

"Nat? Nat!" It was Scott. Why did he keep appearing everywhere? Okay, the second time he didn't appear, his mom sent him to come and get me. So this was unofficially the second time. I could hear him move towards me, along with another set of slower footsteps. I sniffled, and tears started down my face. He crouched down in front of me, so he was looking up to me.

"Scott..."

"Nat, what is it?"

"This is it. I'm going to die. It was all a game before, because I wasn't here, I didn't have to face it." The tears slowly progressed, along with shuddering my already messed up breathing.

"Hey, don't say that," he cooed, trying to comfort me. "It's not over yet, now is it?"

"But it is. It is, Scott." I was full-out sobbing now. He was silent in front of me for a little bit, before he came out of his crouch and gave me a hug. I was getting all snotty-nosed and it was gross, because it was getting all over the little nose nodes on the tube. But I was starting to leave this "there is no hope left in the world you can just leave me here to die" stage and returning to my normal sarcastic personality. "You're my best friend Scott, and I've only known you for a few days. What a sucky way to begin a friendship." I let go of him and pulled the tube off of my face, reaching over to the dresser to grab a tissue from the tissue box that sat on it. I wiped my nose and the nodes, putting the thing back on my face.

The guy that was standing off to the side behind Scott looked like he had just got hit by a train.

"Uh, Scott -" I sniffled again, trying to keep the gross nose goo from reaching the nodes again. "- I think I broke your friend with my emotional breakdown."

"Isaac?" Scott looked a bit worried, because said Isaac was kind of just staring in our general direction.

Isaac shook his head, snapping out of whatever trance he was in.

"No, yeah, I'm fine." He glanced behind him, finding one of the two armchairs, and taking one. Scott stepped back, taking to leaning against the wall with the door that lead into the hallway.

"Isaac... I know you from somewhere. You look familiar. Do you play lacrosse?"

"Yeah, number 14."

"Thought so. I'm Natalie, by the way. You can call me Nat I would lean over and hold out my hand for you to shake, but I think that might be a little too traumatic for you."

A small smile broke onto his face, and one appeared on my face too.

Mrs. McCall finally returned to my room, with a clipboard.

"Are they bothering you?" was the first thing out of her mouth.

"Yes, they're harassing me," I said sarcastically, with a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. A grin appeared on her lips, and she walked around the bed to the heart monitor, an IV drip, and what looked like something that would breathe for me. "And as punishment, I will force both of them to play me in checkers. Well, I have to get a checkers board first."

**.**

Scott and Isaac were sitting on benches outside of Natalie's hospital room. Scott was rubbing his hands together, trying to gather his words.

"So...what do you think of her?"

"Well...she's optimistic for only having a week to live."


	5. Guess Who Hasn't Seen Zombieland

I did end up playing both Scott and Isaac in checkers; when the two came back the next day, they had brought a box with them that contained a checkers board. I played them both; I tied with Scott, both of us getting two wins each. Isaac, on the other hand, lost every match we played. He kept calling rematches, and saying that I was "cheating somehow" and that he'd "figure out how to beat me eventually". We got to match number thirty-four before he called it quits, nearly throwing the board up off of the bed in frustration. Scott had moved one of the two chairs in the room over to the wall he had been leaning on yesterday, so he could watch the whole thing go down. I think when he decided to watch he thought that we'd only play maybe two or three matches, not the amount we actually had. He had an amused expression on his face, clearly finding it utterly hilarious that Isaac just couldn't beat me at a simple game of checkers.

Isaac was sitting at the end of the hospital bed, cross-legged and frankly looking to tall and lanky to be doing so. He looked absolutely preposterous. "How are you doing that," he asked as he rubbed his hands over his face, resting his hands at mouth line. His hands were pressed together, touching his nose and lips, his thumbs hooked under his chin. "There is no way you can beat me thirty-four times in a row. It's scientifically impossible. You have to lose at least _once_, unless you've rigged this game somehow."

"I don't know what to tell you Isaac, but I'm just really good at checkers." I shrugged and he just let out a frustrated sigh. "You know, if it makes you feel better, I'll let you win. But only one time, _one time_, and that is it. In all other games of checkers, you will lose."

"No, that's cheating. It's like telling me you're going to give me a puppy and you get me an iguana instead. I want my single win to be one that I did on my own."

"Fine, whatever. Your loss for your only chance at winning." I stretched out "-ing" in the last word, raising my eyebrows slightly at him.

"Nope. I gotta win on my own, sorry Nat."

"Well, if you're not gonna play again, then get off my bed. There is a completely fine chair over there where you won't look like a giraffe trying to sit on a boulder in the serengeti."

Isaac scoffed, putting his hands on his hips and looking away somewhat dramatically.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that you are really tall and look strange sitting cross-legged at the end of my bed. Now scram before I have to kick you off. Literally."

He complied with my order, getting off the bed and moving to the chair. I yawned slowly, stretching my arms above my head. "You guys can leave if you want. You don't have to stay here all the time with me. I was thinking about taking a nap or something. Beating Isaac at checkers tuckered me out."

"I will beat you, one day," he said, getting up out of the chair he had just sat down in, Scott getting up out of his chair after him.

"Better get workin' on that one Lahey, I don't have many days left."

**.**

I ended up sleeping for roughly seven hours, plenty of time that would provide me with enough energy to keep me awake all night. Hurray. I had missed when Melissa had come in and brought me dinner, which consisted of a ham and cheese sandwich, applesauce, and orange, and a bottle of water. Hospital food sucked, especially the sandwiches. Well, at least I could still eat solid food and they didn't have to force it into me via tubes down my throat. I ate the sandwich and downed the bottle of water, leaving the thing of applesauce on the tray; that stuff was gross. The texture, the flavor, the smell, all of it was just disgusting to me, and I have no idea why. I peeled the orange with my fingers and ate it slowly.

After I had finished eating, I laid back down in the bed and I rolled over, stretching my arms out and rolling my ankles. A few joints cracked, but it felt good. I sat up, running my hands through my hair and sighing. I threw off the edge of the blanket that covered me, deciding to get up and use the bathroom. My feet touched the floor and I recoiled slightly, the cold of the tiles seeping through my socks. I stood up, using the pole that the IV hung on to steady myself. The room's door suddenly swung open, and I expected Melissa to be on the other side, here to give me a dose of medicine or change my intravenous fluid or something. But I was wrong. The door swung open to reveal Scott, Isaac, and Stiles. All three of them looked excited, especially Stiles. He was practically radiating the excitement that was on his face.

"Ahem?" I said, putting my free hand on my hip. All three of them gave me a confused look, and I sighed. "You could knock first. I could've been naked." I could see all there of their faces flush slightly at the comment, and I withheld a snicker that desperately wanted to make its way out of my mouth. Scott grabbed the door handle, pulling it back slightly before knocking on it. A smile perked up in the corner of my mouth. "Come in," I said, motioning with my hand. The trio slowly shuffled into my room, a wide grin on Stiles' face, the other two looking somewhat suspicious. I raised my eyebrows at the three, leaning against the bed.

"Okay, what's up? I feel like something's going on that you're not telling me about..."

Scott and Isaac glanced at Stiles, who was standing between them. Suddenly, Stiles a backpack out from behind his back.

"A backpack?"

"No, not a backpack. It's what's in the backpack. Geez, Natalie, I thought you'd have more of an imagination," Stiles said, unzipping and reaching his hand into it. He shuffled around a bit before he pulled out three movies. "I've also got popcorn in here."

"Movie night?"

"Exactly." He threw the movies on the end of my bed. "You three can decide on which movie we're going to watch while I step out to pop the popcorn." He slowly backed out of the room, leaving me alone with Scott and Isaac. I leaned forward and scooped up the movies, while the two took the chairs from across the room and moved them both to the right side of my bed, so we could all see the television that was mounted in the corner of the room. The movies Stiles had brought were the Avengers, Zombieland, and Mean Girls. Of course, he had to throw Mean Girls in there. I'd already seem all of the movies before me, but I was rooting for my favorite out of the three; Zombieland.

I hobbled to the bathroom and came back out, crawling into my bed.

Stiles came back with three bags of popcorn, holding them all in one hand, muttering "hot, hot, hot". He set them on the the table that had been between the two chairs, and pulled two big bowls out of the backpack, dumping the three bags into the bowls equally. "So have we decided yet?"

"I'm not even surprised that you own Mean Girls, I mean really. And no, we haven't decided."

"Well, I personally think we should watch the Avengers."

"The Avengers, really Stiles, really? I think we should watch something with more obvious comedy, like Zombieland. They say laughter's the best medicine, right?" I stuck out my bottom lip, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

"Zombieland..?" It was Isaac.

"Zombieland, you know, the one with the twinkie-obssessed guy who calls himself Tenessee, and the girls that steal his truck," Scott said.

"Again, I repeat. Zombieland..?"

"Have you not seen Zombieland?" Stiles said, complete shock in his tone.

"I just haven't seen a lot of movies, okay?"

"Then we have to watch it. _Have to_."

**.**

Apparently, Stiles came completely prepared; he had brought a DVD player, and somehow managed to hook it up to the television that was in the room. He put the disc in and tossed the little remote to me. I caught it, but it almost hit Scott in the head.

"How...how did you even manage that?" I asked him, completely surprised.

"Magic," he said, flicking off the lights. He went to go and sit down, but let out an annoyed sigh when he found that there were no seats open. Scott had taken the chair that was next to my bed, and Isaac the chair next to him. "Aw, c'mon, are you serious?"

"You snooze, you lose," Isaac muttered under his breath.

"Yes, because I can totally claim a seat when I am hooking up the DVD player, Isaac, that is a thing that I can do."

"Hey, there's always the floor."

"If I have to sit on the floor, then I'm taking the whole bowl of popcorn," Stiles said, taking the bowl that sat on the arm of the chair Isaac was sitting in in into his own hands roughly, causing a few kernels to fly out of the bowl. He sat quickly down on the floor, and I skipped the movie previews and went straight to the main menu, and pressed play.

"Isaac, get ready to watch the best movie you will ever see," I said, shoving a handful of popcorn into my mouth.

**.**

Halfway through the movie, Melissa came in the room to check on me. She gave all of us a puzzled look, like she was looking over the situation. She rested her eyes on me and I subtly pointed to Stiles, who was into the movie more than any of us.

"Stiles?"

He looked from the movie to Melissa, then back to the movie. "Yeah, Mrs. McCall?"

"Where did you - how did you- nevermind, I don't even want to know," she said, waving a hand and moving over to check my monitors.

* * *

**A/N: **Who's ready for the mid-season finale! Not me! It will probably be filled with crying and ugly laughter for me. And then I'll think about life and cry some more because hiatus has begun for the Teen Wolf fandom.

P.S. If you're wondering where Stiles popped the popcorn, he snuck into the break room.


	6. The Mystery Man

Everyone had fallen asleep, but I was wide awake. Scott had his head resting against the side of my bed, his arm curled around the bowl of popcorn; Isaac had sprawled out in the chair he had taken, his head lolling back and his body made as wide as possible; Stiles was laying with his cheek against the ground, his lip and cheek smooshing out to one side, and the bowl of popcorn was clutched under his arm like a stuffed animal would be. There was popcorn all over the floor, because after Melissa had left I kept blurting out scenes that were going to happen, and Stiles took to throwing popcorn at me to get me to shut up. Of course, I threw popcorn back at him until Scott moved the bowl away from me, and I just frowned at him.

Stiles had set the movie to repeat, causing the movie to restart once already. It was close to being three-fourths done already, for the second time now. I didn't mind at all watching it again. The boys would probably end up staying here until the early morning, when Melissa came in to check on me. She'd end up forcing the three out and sending them to school, where they really should be instead of hanging out with me in the hospital all day. At one point, I tried leaning as far as I could off the bed without falling off or hitting Scott to try and reach the popcorn; I failed. My fingers were only centimeters from the bowl, but it was still too far away for me to reach. I huffed, crossing my arms and returned to watching the movie.

There was a creak, a quick little one that was just above hearing level, and instantly I was put on edge. There should be no creaks, unless one of the boys had moved, and I was pretty dang sure that none of them had. I brushed it off, ignoring it and going back to watching the movie. But I was still really creeped out. But there it went again; another creak, but closer this time. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. Not another horror movie. It was basically the same scenario, just different circumstances; everyone is asleep, so I was practically alone. There were noises coming from outside my room, and it was dark. This wasn't a good combination, it was a panic attack waiting to happen. I unintentionally leaned towards Scott slightly, like he would spring into action and fight away the thing that was making the noise. Yeah, like that would totally happen.

Then the door handle started turning slowly, and I officially began freaking out. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I got that feeling of dread in the bottom my stomach. All I could do was watch the door handle turn until it made a clicking noise. There were a few moments of silence, the sound of the movie drowned out in my ears as I watched door handle, until the door moved open slightly, and someone stepped inside my room. I couldn't see well in the darkness, and the person that had entered my room was not far enough into the room for the light coming from the television to catch them. I panicked. Who was this strange person who just entered my room? It obviously wasn't any of the hospital staff, because only Melissa, my assigned doctor, and another nurse would come into my room sat an hour like this, and the staff would just walk right in and ask me how I was doing if I was still awake. This person was just hanging by the door, and had yet to move from the spot. My hearbeat picked up, and it was clearly obvious to this person that I was freaking out because the heart rate monitor had picked up and was beating rapidly. I was about to grab Scott's arm and wake him up, but the person shook their head, like they knew I was going to do that. _Totally not creepy at all._ I complied, but kept my hand close to Scott's head so I could wake him up if I desperately needed to, and right now, I was well beyond thinking I should. This was strange, really really strange. The person stepped forward, and I could see their face; it was clearly a man's, that was easy enough to discern because of the jaw shape and the stubble that covered the lower half his face. He was tall and looked intimidating, a permanent scowl etched into his face. My heart rate slowed a little, coming back within the the normal person range for heart rates. I couldn't remember if I had blinked at all in the last few minutes, so I opened and closed them a few time. It was also to make sure I wasn't dreaming or hallucinating or something else similar.

"Who are you?" I whispered, but I wasn't sure if he could hear me over the movie.

"That isn't important right now," he returned in a hushed tone. Okay, that was a little ominous.

I stayed quite until he spoke again.

"What if I told you that you could live again, return to your life?" He took a step towards me.

"What?"

"I could cure your cancer." Another step.

"How can you -"

"That isn't important, either." Again, another step.

"But...how?"

"Well," he said, now standing near the side of my bed that was decorated with machines, "I possess a..._gift _of sorts. I happen to be a werewolf, and if I bite you, well, the cancer will disappear completely."

I thought for a second. This guy had to be crazy or something. I furrowed my brows.

"How do I know you're not lying to me? Because there are assholes out there-"

Hair suddenly grew on his face, and his features grew wolfish. His eyes flashed red and claws shot out of his fingernails. I was taken aback, and flattened myself against the bed. Okay, he wasn't shitting me. He was actually a werewolf. _He was actually a werewolf. _I must be going crazy or something, because this was not possible. My heart rate picked up again, looking him, over again before the features disappeared and he returned to normal.

"I'm crazy. I _must_ be going crazy. That's not possible. Werewolves don't exist."

"Do I need to do another demonstration, because I'm pretty sure that I just turned into a werewolf."

"Um, no. I'm good, thanks." I sucked in a breath. There is no way this is happening right now.

"So, will you accept my offer of the bite and rid yourself of the cancer?"

I wrung my hands for a while before answering.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

"Okay, but I just warn you, it'll either turn you, or it'll kill you. You still want it?"

"Well, I'm going to die anyway, so what have I got to lose?" I let out a nervous laugh. He just sighed and grabbed my wrist, wolfing out again. I don't think I'd ever get used to that. He opened his jaw, revealing four canines that were extended way past the normal human length. I yanked my arm out of his grip, rubbing my wrist absentmindedly. "Wait. Can you put the bite somewhere less noticeable? I don't want the thing to be on my wrist and having people see it. It'll bring up red flags that I suddenly have an animal bite on my wrist."

"Well then, where should I bite you?"

I sat up, curling my legs under myself and turning so my back was to the self-proclaimed werewolf. I pulled my hair out of the way and onto one shoulder. I reached back, undoing the two ties that held the dressing gown on me, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I wasn't sure if it was from being nervous, or my decline in health. Probably a little bit of both. I pulled one of the sides over slightly, exposing a patch of skin just above my hip. I shivered as the cool air of the room hit my skin, goosebumps appearing almost instantly. I traced my fingers over the area.

"Here should be fine," I said, glancing over my shoulder at him.

"Okay. Now just breathe. Also, you might want to grab something to bite onto. I'm going to be biting into your flesh, after all."

I glanced around before grabbing the pillow I had been leaning against to watch the movie and curled it in half. I wrapped my arms around it and rested my face on it, closing my eyes. I pulled in a deep breathe through my nose and then exhaled through my mouth. I could feel his hand appear just above the area I had suggested he bite, probably to steady himself into the bite.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

**.**

I was surprised by how much it hurt. Tears had been brought to the corner of my eyes and were instantly soaked up by the pillow that I had buried my face into. Well, of course it would hurt, he was piercing through my skin and biting into muscle and internal organs. I ran my fingers over the bite, wincing slightly as my finger slipped into one of the teeth marks. I looked it over, too. It looked exactly like an animal bite. I shouldn't have been surprised by that, but the guy who had bit me was actually human at one point during our strange nightly conversation.

I tied the strings back together and put the pillow back where it had been, flipping it over so the saliva and tear-stained side was facing downwards. I laid down on the side I was bitten, pulling the covers over me and curling my feet up to my chest. If the thing was going to bleed, I'd rather it be into the sheets and mattress than the white blanket above and expose that I was bleeding from the bite mark. I ended up laying there for a bit, thinking about what changes would happen to me, other than the cancer in my lung completely disappearing. I thought up several things, most of them completely irrational.

I looked over my shoulder at one point, able to see Isaac and Scott. Stiles was hidden from view, and I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up under my bed. The thing I was most surprised about was that none of them had woken up, or even stirred a bit at the least while the mystery werewolf man was here. Huh. They must be heavy sleepers.


	7. Monologues From a Werewolf

Scott had been awake since he had heard the door to my room open and my heartbeat jump. He was quick to hide the fact that he was awake, and I was too distracted to notice that he had stirred. Derek probably noticed that Scott had woke up, his heartbeat speeding up from the normal sleeping rate. If he had noticed, he had ignored it. Scott had laid there, listening and keeping watch on the pounding of my heart during Derek's whole "visit" to make sure I was okay. After Derek had left and I rolled over he sat up, watching me in case anything were to happen until he had drifted off to sleep, when he was no longer to keep his eyes open. He had started out sleeping sitting up, and ended up face forward across the arm of his chair and partially onto my bed. He was lucky I didn't roll over or anything, or else I probably would've rolled on top of his head and arms.

"Nat?" Scott asked sleepily, yawning and sitting up, stretching his arms above his head. The bowl of popcorn fell from the spot it had been balancing on the chair, aided by his stretching, hitting Stiles and bouncing off him. That sent kernels all over the already popcorn-scattered floor. He rubbed his face and Stiles shot up, a clear reaction from the large plastic bowl hitting him. His arms and legs were flailing as he was startled awake, slowly making his way to a standing position after he had realized that the bowl had hit him. It was more than likely if he had been sleeping in one of the chairs that he would rolled out of it, and probably give himself a minor concussion by hitting his head on the tile floor.

"Five more minutes, dad, I'm awake," he uttered out, his brain clearly not processing the words before they had tumbled out of his mouth. "Ugh." Stiles rubbed his eyes and yawned, Scott catching the contagious muscle action and yawning himself again. Isaac was still asleep, now curled up in his chair, his head lolling off of the arm of the thing. "Dude, what time is it?" Stiles asked, dropping his hands from his face and arching his back, a few vertebrae making a cracking noise in the process. Scott was too distracted to hear or even register what Stiles had said.

"Nat," Scott said again. There was no response from me. "Nat? Natalie?" Still nothing. There was a slight panic hinting in his voice, because my heartbeat had dropped to a rate just barely above the rate one would need to continue living and he had just registered that. I had dropped into unconsciousness during some point in my sleep, my condition taking a turn for the worse, for reasons unknown to me or Scott, or anyone for that matter.

"Scott, what's going on?" It was Stiles, and he had caught drift of the panic in Scott's voice. His tone was curious, edged with fear. If Scott was worried, something had to be wrong, or borderline about to be. Scott didn't answer him again, instead skirting around the edge of my bed to the side with the machines, and the direction I was facing. My face was pale and my breathing shallow, sweat beading across my forehead. A viscous black liquid dribbled from the corner of my mouth, dripping from there onto the pillow below my head in a constant beat. He ran his hands through his hair before he began muttering, "no, no, no, this can't be, no, she was fine last night, this can't be happening". He pulled the blanket that covered me back gingerly, rolling me over onto my back once the blanket was out of the way. Doing so revealed a large black stain on the white sheets, a similar but smaller stain decorating the side of my dressing down. Liquid was pouring slowly through the soaked side of the dressing gown and down my side to join the rest of the black stain, looking like someone had forced black maple syrup through a bed sheet.

Alarm or something similar must have registered on Scott's face, because Stiles had made his way around my bed to see what was the matter.

"Scott—oh my god."

**. . . . .**

Friday. It was Friday now. I had arrived at the hospital on Monday. Scott and Isaac had come to visit me on Tuesday, and had returned later that night with Stiles and we all watched Zombieland. Early Wednesday morning, Derek had bitten me. I had been unconscious since early Wednesday morning. My mom had visited on Thursday, and Scott and Melissa were quick to disguise that fact that I was oozing black liquid out of my side, Melissa especially. She was a bit jumpy and made a few "medical" excuses to keep my mom from getting close enough to me to see anything that might make her question Melissa. It was late Friday now, nearing eight o'clock or so, and Scott was in the hospital room with me. He was sitting in one of the chairs, resting his head in his arms on the side of my bed, watching me lay there. Not in a creepy sort of way, but in more of a "I hope you're going to be okay" kind of way. I had been changed out of my previous dressing down into a fresh one, and my sheets, blankets and pillows had all been swapped out for new ones as well. There was a thick piece gauze over my bite wound, which was still oozing the black liquid and didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime in the near future. The liquid had stopped dripping from the corner of my mouth, now only coming up when I would cough, but that didn't happen often. Every once in a while my face would pinch up, and Scott would grab my hand, taking away any pain that I had. It was very minimal from what I could tell, considering I was unconscious. Melissa had put me in isolation, with the exception of Scott and herself. The doctor and other nurse that had been assigned to me were no longer allowed into my room, and they both probably assumed it was a sort of last wish, that I wanted to be comfortable with people I knew instead of just the people that were assigned to me. I was nearing the brink of death after all, considering my "death day" was predicted to be Friday. Melissa had let Scott take off school, since he was the only one really qualified to do anything if something to do with werewolf business happened, with the exceptions to Derek and Deaton. Derek wouldn't step up to the plate, saying that I was Scott's responsibility. Deaton...ah, well, that would be tricky. Asking Deaton to help would most likely end up in a riddle with a hidden message that wouldn't help at all, unless you figured out the secret message within it.

Melissa would come into my room during her food breaks, bringing Scott some food for whatever meal it was, forcing him to leave my room and walk around, since he had been sitting in that chair for hours on end. Isaac and Stiles had both stopped by briefly earlier after they both got out of school to visit, but most likely to check on Scott, seeing how he was holding up with my chance of actually dying. After giving a few comforting words, they both left Scott and I to ourselves. Well, really leaving Scott to himself because I was about as conversational as a potato right about now. But that didn't stop him from talking. More like muttering to himself, actually.

"Hey, Nat, you're going to be okay, you're going to be alright."

I think most of the time he was trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing, that having Derek offer me the bite was the best option.

"Stiles said that when you wake up, he's going to take us all to McDonalds to celebrate."

And to cheer himself up.

"And Isaac said he was going to hold a checkers tournament, to see if he could finally beat you."

But probably just to reassure himself.

"If it's any consolation, I think you look pretty good for being on the brink of death."

To tell himself that everything was going to be okay.

"When you get out of here, you can meet my other friends besides Isaac and Stiles. There's Lydia and Allison. I think you'll like them."

And I'm honestly surprised that he didn't break down crying, because it really seemed like he was going to.

"I just hope you're going to make it, Nat, I really do."

**.**

He had continued his monologue until he ran out of things to say. Slowly but steadily his hand had drifted towards mine and he had grabbed it, rubbing the back of it with his thumb in a comforting way. For whom the comfort was for, I couldn't tell. It was later now, nearing eleven or so at night. I hadn't thought about it earlier, but it was a bit ironic that my day of death was supposed to be on a full moon. And I was most likely supposed to become a werewolf, to avoid death. It was just dripping with irony and lame jokes.

A wide stream of moonlight filtered through the single window in my room, casting a glow over Scott and myself. Scott had fallen asleep, his hand loosely wrapped around my own, claiming a little space on the side of my bed for his head and arms. Of course, he had enough control over his werewolf urges that he could sleep peacefully at night.

All of a sudden, my heart rate monitor eyes flashed open, glowing a bright golden yellow. The bite had taken.


	8. No Longer Human

The bed before Scott was empty, the blanket bearing a few slash marks. The tubes that had been attached to my face had been cut into several small pieces, the loop that went across and around my face now missing a piece. The window in the room had cracks splintered across it and was open slightly, to where a slight breeze was pouring into the room. Scott jerked in his sleep and was suddenly sitting up, like he had woken up from a falling dream. The constant and blaring beep of the heart monitor filled the room, boring into his ears. At first, he had though I had actually died, and a pit of sorrow formed in his stomach. But when he noticed the slash marks on the sheets, the plastic bits of the oxygen tubes and the slightly ajar window, the sorrow was quickly replaced with worry and dread. He jumped out of the seat, rushing over to check the door to see if it had been opened at all. It was still locked, like it had been the night before. No one had come in during the night. Good, no one had noticed that I was missing from the room, besides Scott. Honestly, they all probably thought I had flat-lined, and I wouldn't blame them. I mean, who expects a near-dead patient to just spring out of their bed and jump out the window? Probably no one. Maybe people who believe in zombies.

Scott pulled out his phone, quickly dialing Stiles' number and pacing around the room, like the phone wasn't trying to connect to Stiles' fast enough.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." He ran a shaky hand over his face, knowing that each minute I could be getting farther and father away, diminishing the chance of him finding me.

Stiles picked up, sounding grumpy and disgruntled as he spoke.

"Scott, it's two o'clock in the morning. What do you want?"

"It's Natalie. She's missing."

"How-"

"I don't know. Call Isaac, and meet me at the hospital entrance."

Scott hung up the phone quickly, keeping it in his hand and unlocking the door, stepping out of the room. After he shut the door he glanced around briefly, checking to see if anyone was around or there were any doors open. My room had been in a particularly vacant section of the hospital, so not many people came back here unless they were visiting loved ones on the verge of death. That's right, the hospital had a little designated section for those near death, close to the morgue, which I thought was kind of gross. After checking to make sure the cost was clear, his kicked in the bottom corner of the door with enough force to get it jammed; jammed enough that you'd need to undo the door hinges and get a crowbar to open it. And the hinges were on the inside of the room, so that'd be a bit difficult for the hospital staff. He began walking towards the front the hospital, dialing his mother to let her know what the situation was.

**. . . . .**

I was running. Running way faster than I ever had before, and way faster than I should be able to. I was cold...and hungry. When had I eaten last? My vision was all weird, like it was bending around a mirror and someone had put a black and white filter over my face. I was hearing noises all at once, but I could seperate all of them, hearing one at a time or over the other sounds; crunches of leaves, twigs snapping, the fluttering of wings above me, the sound of dirt moving, and no more than a dozen heartbeats all pumping. It was all strange, but it felt...natural somehow.

**. . . . .**

I woke up laying on the forest floor. It was hard to tell what time it was, but there were a few streams of light sowing through the trees, barely enough to see. So it must be early morning, or somewhere around that time. I could hear noises coming from all over, even hearing some things I couldn't see. This was strange. A slight breeze weaved though the trees and hit me, goosebumps raising up on my skin all over. And then I realized, I was naked. _I was naked. _The only thing on me was the bandage that had been taped onto my side, and I had no idea where that had come from, but it was over where I had been bitten. The thing itself looked a bit black, like the blood that was most likely inside of the thing had gone all crusty and was showing through. I instantly sat up, crossing my arms over my chest and arranging my legs so I couldn't flash anybody, if anybody happened to come by. A wave of exhaustion hit me, that kind that you usually get when you wake up on a school morning, where you know you need to stay awake but can hardly keep your eyes open. My brain was feeling a bit scrambled, the exhaustion making it even worse. I couldn't remember how I got to the place I was or even where I was at. Then the smell hit me; it was coppery, and instantly I knew it was blood. I could feel it on my hands and my face, the dry crusty feeling making my skin crawl.

I was just about to get up and start looking around when I heard some leaves crunching behind me. I whipped my head around to see the stranger who had been in my hospital room a few hours ago. Wait. Was that right? That didn't seem right. He continued walking towards me and had something gathered up in his hands and hanging over his shoulder. I looked like a blanket from where I was sitting on the ground, bit I couldn't be too sure. When he came within a few feet of me, he tossed the blanket at me, which was way heavier than I had assumed and had the texture of slightly softened burlap. Overall, the thing was rough, but warm from his radiating body heat. He averted his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets, allowing me to cover myself up. I unfolded the blanket, and threw it around myself, holding the edges of the blanket tightly so it wouldn't fall as I stood up. I coughed, a combination of clearing my throat and getting his attention. He turned to look at me, a hard look on his face while his eyes were dotted with concern, although it was clear he was trying to hide it.

"Are you going to tell me your name now?" My voice came out hoarse, and I could feel the dried blood on my face stretch and crack as I spoke. He let out a curt, quiet laugh before speaking.

"Derek."

"What happened to me?"

"For starters, you're not human anymore."

"Oh." The word slipped out between my lips, short and quiet, sounding somewhere in between a "I must be dreaming and this can't actually be happening" oh and a "okay cool" oh. I stood there for a bit before he turned and began walking in the direction he had come from, like he was assuming I'd follow him. I went to follow him, but stumbled and fell over instead. I guess my legs didn't want to work, probably a combination of being cold, my feet and legs being unimaginably sore, and feeling absolutely exhausted. I would've caught myself, but I didn't want to potentiality flash Derek. He noticed that I had fallen over and turned around, and before I could stop him, he scooped me up off the ground and into his arms, bridal style. I didn't protest, mostly because my feet hurt and I would rather someone carry me than walk. Plus, I had no idea where we were going or how long it would take to get there. So I just complied, resting my head against his chest lightly. The swaying motion of his steps, and the steady rhythm of his breathing nearly put me to sleep, but I fought for consciousness behind closed eyes.

**.**

"Please tell me she didn't eat someone," a girl said, who was splayed out on a couch, as I followed Derek into the loft.

"Cora, please show her to the bathroom so she can wash up," Derek said with slight harshness, like he was tired of hearing the girl- Cora -Cora's sarcasm. They kind of looked similar, and I assumed that they were related. Cora sighed exaggeratedly and climbed over the back of the couch with grace, already walking down a hallway without waiting for me. "And if you would be so kind as to lend her some of your clothes." That sent out a groan from the girl as I quickly walked after her, my bare feet making slapping sounds on the floor.

Cora led me to the bathroom and then left, telling me that she was going to get some clothes. She came back shortly after with them and left, giving me no instructions whatsoever on how to work the shower or anything. I brought the clothes in the bathroom and set them on the toilet lid. I locked the door and dropped the blanket that had been around me, actually looking at myself in the mirror for the first time in a long while. There were slight bags under my eyes, way less visible than the ones that had been there before. My face seemed pinker and more full of life, but I attributed that to the blood that was around my mouth and nose, streaking slightly up my face in splotches. My hands, too, were covered in the crusty blood up to the wrists. I turned on the sink, wiping my hands and face vigorously until the blood was gone, leaving my face pink the intense cleaning and stains from the red liquid. I pulled a towel out of a cabinet that had been sitting off to the side of the room, setting it on top of the clothes Cora had given me, and approached the tub. I pulled the little knob on top of the spout up so the water would come out of the shower head and turned the water up until it was nearly scalding, jumping in when I couldn't stand standing in the cold air any longer. The water numbed up my back almost instantly, which felt nice. I ran my hands through my hair and tried to rid it of tangles and any other forest debris that might be caught in it. I stayed away from the soap because I had no where it had been, only using the shampoo and conditioner that I assumed was Cora's. After I had washed my hair, I stood under the water for a bit, hoping it would just was away my lingering exhaustion. It did nothing of the sort. In fact, it made me more tired than I was before. I hopped out of the shower and dried myself and my hair vigorously until both were dry, pulling on the clothes Cora had laid out for me and running my fingers through my hair again as a sort of comb. As I did, I noticed that my hair had gotten thicker, like it had been before I had went on the decline of life. It wasn't thin any longer. Huh. I put the wet towel on what I presumed was a towel rack and pulled the blanket back around me, since the water disappearing from my skin was cooling me down.

I walked back out into the "living room" area after I had gathered myself up in the blanket. Cora was missing from the room, but Derek had taken a seat at the dining table that was in the room, across from what looked like a little kitchen with an island.

"Better?"

I nodded, hovering indecisively near the couch before I laid down on it, waiting for a yell from Derek that I couldn't sit there, or lay down there. When nothing came from him, I settled down on the couch, wrapping the rough blanket around myself and tucking my legs up next to my chest. I tucked part of the blanket underneath my head to act as a sort of pillow. I fell asleep quickly, letting the sleepiness take me.

**.**

Scott and Isaac came in through the loft door, Stiles deciding to stay in his jeep. Scott rushed over to the couch where I was sleeping, before moving over to the table where Derek was. Isaac hung back behind Scott, staying near the couch.

"Is she okay?"

"Other than taking down a deer and eating the whole thing, yeah, she's great."

After a few moments, Scott went back to the couch, picking me up gently off of the couch. I stirred slightly, but other than that, I stayed sleeping. He ran a hand through my hair, brushing a few stray pieces that had fallen into my face out of the way. He began walking swiftly towards the exit, Isaac trailing after him.

"Isaac, get the door."

* * *

**A/N: **Hurray for the longest chapter yet, and so far my favourite (even though my favourite ones tend to be when Nat is being sarcastic and witty) one! Also, I will be going back to school tomorrow, so that most likely means updates more frequently due to extreme procrastination, which I am an expert at (seriously. I did a last minute project once and got a 92/100 because of a few grammatical and spelling errors I missed).


	9. Sleeping Beauty, But Whose The Prince?

A quiet "what the hell?" slipped out of my mouth. I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't just hallucinating or dreaming or anything. I was no longer on the couch in Derek's loft, but I was on a bed in some person's room that I did not recognize at all instead. I still had the same blanket as before though, which struck me as odd. I rolled over onto my stomach, exhaling a large sigh into the unfamiliar pillow below me. Great. I should probably just start handcuffing myself to things from this point on forward so I don't wander off during my sleep. That seemed to be the logical thing to do, since I kept appearing in strange places with no recollection of how I got there. But I was hearing things again, so I might be hallucinating. There were two different sounds that sound like heartbeats below me, along with the sounds of video games and yelling. I tried to tune the sounds out, and they eventually went away.

There was a patch of sunlight streaming through a window that I was too lazy to look for, hitting my head and back. It was the better of the two types of sunlight; the warm but not burning your skin off and making you sweat profusely kind. So I took the liberty of laying there for a while, my face shoved into the unfamiliar pillow. Okay, this wasn't a hallucination; this sunlight felt to good to be fake. After a few moments of absorbing the warmth of the sun, I decided to crawled out from underneath the blanket and explore where ever I was. I twisted around onto my back and threw the blanket off of myself, scooting to the edge of the bed. My legs dangled over the edge before meeting the soft carpet below, which I spread my toes out in. I actually noticed the clothes I was wearing now, unlike when I had just thrown them on in the bathroom; I was decorated in a pair of tight black yoga pants that were cut off at the calves, a sports bra and a loose and slightly sheer army green tee shirt with small pocket. But I had no socks or shoes on and I was okay with that, except for the fact that my feet still hurt a little. I still wasn't sure why they hurt.

I stood up, leaving the blanket behind on the bed. I wasn't as cold as I had been earlier, so I assumed I could manage without it. I walked over to the door that was slightly ajar, not inspecting the room at all as I made my way over to it, and pulled it open slightly. I didn't step out, but instead poked my head out and glanced around. There was a hallway in front of me that led in two directions; one way led to a staircase and the other down the hall a bit more, a few more doors dotting the way. I pulled the door open more, getting ready to step out and take a look around until I stopped, noticing a piece of paper taped to the door with words scribbled down on it. I pulled the door open all the way so I could read what it written.

"_Sleeping baby werewolf inside. Do not disturb or she might rip your head off_."

What. I'm not a- oh, wait. Yeah I am a werewolf actually, I guess. I read the words again, wondering who had written the note. I didn't recognize the handwriting. Well, then again, I didn't really write to anyone or pass notes in class or anything, so the only handwriting I really knew was my own, my mother's and Melissa's. I guess I'd find out eventually though.

I was about to step out of the room and go towards the stairs, but I heard someone making their way up them. I panicked. Who was in this house with me? It could be some psycho killer for all I know that kidnapped me from Derek's home. Highly illogical, I know, but it could happen. I fled back into the room, shutting the door as quickly and as quietly as I could, jumping across the room and up onto the bed. I pulled the blanket over my head, laying back in the position I had been in before, since the sunny spot where I had been was still there, it was easy enough to do. I heard the door to the room open, footsteps walking gently over to the bed where I was sort-of hiding. If you were hiding under a blanket, the person couldn't see you, right? Or did that rule only apply in the dark and to murderers and monsters?

The footsteps came over to the side of the bed and stopped. My heart fluttered in my chest. Should I pretend to be asleep? Or will the person know that I'm faking? I sure as hell wasn't going to pull the blanket off my head. I felt a pressure on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under the weight. Arms were suddenly around me, lifting me up, and I began to freak out. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel myself change, my nails becoming claws, my canines growing longer in my mouth, and my face changing shape. I writhed and struggled, trying to get free of the persons' grip. The sai person pulled me up against their chest, resting my head over their heart restraining my arms and legs. "Nat! It's me, calm down!" It was Scott. I felt like I couldn't trust the sounds that drifted into my ears, so I continued to struggle even though I was being restrained."Natalie, you've got to calm down." He pulled the blanket off of my head where it had gotten stuck, and when I saw his face it was pinched up with worry. My thrashing slowed, and I felt the wolf features sink back to reveal my normal self. My cheeks were all pink, mostly from the panic that I had experienced, but some of it came from embarrassment. "It okay, you're safe, nothing's going to get you," he cooed, trying to get my heart down to a normal rate. I guess I didn't factor in the effects of panicking or having a panic attack would bring on the werewolf side of me when I thought about accepting the bite. Well, then again, Derek had told me nothing whatsoever of the side effects or what would change, only showing me what the transformation would look like.

"Scott," I huffed out quietly against him. "You scared the crap out of me."

"I was only coming up to check up on you. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Check up on me?"

"Well, you were in a coma for two days, and you just slept for like eight hours. I wanted to make sure you hadn't actually died."

"I was in a coma?"

"After Derek bit you, you went into-"

"Wait. How did you know that he bit me?"

"I was awake when it happened. I heard everything."

"And you're not freaked out that I'm a..." I couldn't say the word. Even though I had recognized that I was one, I just couldn't get used to the word.

"Werewolf?" He let out a light laugh, the corner of his mouth perking up slightly before dropping back down. "Actually...I'm the one who asked him to, you know, offer you the bite." He seemed kind of embarrassed as he spoke, averting his gaze slightly from me.

"So I'm guessing Derek and I aren't the only two werewolves in Beacon Hills?"

"No, there's a few of us, actually. Myself, Isaac, Cora, Derek, and Derek's creepy uncle Peter. And that's just Derek's pack."

"Pack? Werewolf lingo, I assume?"

He laughed slightly again.

"Yeah."

"You should probably give me a vocabulary list," I said, letting out a laugh of my own. We sat there for a little bit, basically cuddling, before Scott suggested we go downstairs and join Stiles.

**.**

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Stiles said with a smile as I followed Scott down the stairs. He was sitting on a couch in the living room, playing what looked like Modern Warfare 3. He tilted his head back on the cushions of the couch, giving me a smile before he looked back to his game. "Like the sign I put up?"

"It was a good warning. I _did _almost ripped Scott's head off."

"Oh. I thought you two were eating each other's faces up there."

I could feel heat creep up in my cheeks, the same thing probably happening to Scott. I went the opposite direction as Scott, going into the living room where Stiles was, resting my elbows on the top of the couch. I made a few comments, like "you suck at this" and "what are you even doing you're going to get yourself killed" as he was playing, but he seemed to concentrated to acknowledge my comments. I ended up hopping over the back of the couch, sitting with my back on the couch cushion, my legs dangling over the back and continue making commentary as he played the game. Scott had yet to return from wherever he had disappeared to. My stomach grumbled, and I rubbed it. I had just noticed the hunger that had been resting in the pit of my stomach. I glanced at the clock that was on the stove; it was nearly noon.

"How are you even hungry, like, for real." Stiles said, tossing an astonished look my way.

"What?"

"You freaking at a whole deer. Please tell you remember doing that."

"I what?"

"_Ate a whole deer_. Happened when you were wolfed out. Also, you broke out of your hospital room."

"I remember absolutely none of that happening."

"I was going to go look for it in the woods, but the last time I went looking for a dead body in the forest I actually found one. Well, Scott found it, but he wouldn't have found it if it wasn't for me. So by indirect finding, I found it."

"You went to go look for a dead body. That's gross."

"You ate a whole deer. _Raw. With your hands and teeth._"

**. . . . .**

"I have no explanation for you, I'm sorry. The only plausible thing I could think of was that the black blood was just her body ridding itself of the tumor." Deaton was speaking, and those words were directed towards Scott, who had asked why I had been ejecting the black liquid. He turned back to me where I was sitting - on the opperting table in the back; Scott was leaning against a counter - before he continued speaking. "The exposure to the full moon may have sales up the process, explaining how why you did die. You seem to be completely healthy, and your vitals are all normal. I guess it's just one of those things I can explain." There was a short pause. "Maybe it's fate," he said, a small smile appearing on his face briefly.

**.**

Scott and I had broken into my old hospital room via the window that was still propped open. No one had tried to even enter the room, on account of Melissa making up some wild excuse that I had made a miraculous recovery and she was keeping me isolated for observation. I basically just grabbed everything I had shoved into the drawers back into my backpack and hopped back out the window. That was before we had gone to see Deaton. I was actually able to drive now, so Scott threw his bike in the back like he had done before and I took to the driver's side instead of the passenger's side. And to be honest, it felt good to be back behind the wheel again.

I got back in the driver's side when we left the veterinary clinic. I had to return to Scott's house and spend the night there, since I couldn't really go home since I was under "observation" at the time being.

"I need a werewolf instruction manual. What is Deaton again?"

"An emissary. And Stiles could help you with that. He's practically a werewolf expert."

"Who is gonna help me with the panic attack problem?"

"You might have to figure that one out on your own. I can help you with the anger and excitement part of the uncontrollable transformation, as well as moon resistance."

"Moon resistance?"

"Like when you turned for the first time, you couldn't control it. I can teach you how to do it at will."

"Ah. Yes, I definitely need a werewolf manual."


	10. C43, H66, N12, O12, and S

"Try and focus."

Scott and I were in the forest - I assumed the one that I had woken up in - and he was training me in the ways of the werewolf. How to shift and be in control of not wanting to murder anything with a heartbeat to be exact. All we needed was some dramatic scenes fight scenes, good jump cuts and Eye of the Tiger playing in the background, and this would be a full-blown training montage. There had been a pit stop at my house, where I picked up clothes and other things that I'd need since I was still in "observation at the hospital". I had crawled up the trellis that was up against the side of my house - cliché, I know, crawling up a trellis to get into my room. Well, it would be cliché if Scott was climbing up the trellis and I was actually in my room. I didn't want to just walk through the front door and leave a trail that noted that someone probably broke in, because then Stiles' dad would probably be called to investigate. Previous to meeting Stiles, I had no idea that the sheriff was his dad. I _obviously_ get around in the town and _totally_ know everybody.

It was Saturday, which was a good thing, because my mother would be coming back from a business trip up-state, and she wouldn't be home until the early hours of the morning. I entered and exited with no trouble, throwing the dufflebag I had grabbed into the backseat of my truck. I hopped into the passenger's side, Scott taking over the driving now since he knew where we were going and we were off to the forest to get me some training.

"I _am_ trying." My eyes were shut tight and I was trying to focus on my face growing hair, becoming all scrunched up and wolf-like like I Derek's had been. The long, pointy fingernails that looked like claws and the elongated canines. He had only been like that for a few seconds, and it was hard to recall everything, and in the low lighting that the room had, everything was worse. Basically, I was picturing an old school, low-budget movie kind of werewolf. It was terrible, and there was hair all over him and he was trying to win the girl that could totally see past his monster side and would love him forever even if he was a werewolf. So I was picturing some version of Beauty and the Beast. I let out a sigh and clenched my hands into fists, opening my eyes. "It's useless. I can't do it."

"You can do it. Don't put yourself down for not being able to. It's your second day of being a werewolf. I didn't expect you to get it on your first try, or your second. Or even your third."

"Can we just skip this part and come back to it later? Maybe do some 'stay away from this thing because it will more likely than not kill you'. Because that seems like an important thing to know."

**.**

Instead of standing now, we were sitting on the forest floor. We had gone over all of the plants that were dangerous or debilitating to a werewolf – mountain ash, wolfsbane, and mistletoe – and had turned to terminology and other things, like what and emissary was and what exactly they did for the pack. Eye colours were also discussed, even though I had no idea about that part actually being a thing. Apparently if you were an alpha, your eyes were red; if you were a normal beta or omega, your eyes were golden yellow; and if you had killed an innocent, your eyes turned a cold blue. After several minutes of quizzing me on if I knew what all of the words he had taught me, I sighed and leaned back against the tree trunk I had been resting against. I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands, feeling a little tired. I had taken the couch in the living room of Scott's home, even after he had offered for me to take his bed. I wasn't going to do that, after all he had already done for me. He had given me a blanket and a pillow and I slept comfortably on the couch, but the problem was being in a different person's home. That was practically the first sleepover I had ever been to. I am pathetic excuse for a teenager. I yawned, dropping my hands from my face but keeping my eyes closed.

"So how are we going to do the excitemen-"

My eyes fluttered open as my words had been cut off. Scott had closed the small gap between us where we had been sitting, his lips pressed to mine. I was freaking out; heat and redness flooded my cheeks and the back of my neck. I wanted to shove him away and yell _"what the hell, dude"_ but...I didn't. My hands, instead, sprung to the nape of his neck, like I had never had human contact before and I was taking in all I could get before it was gone forever. My eyes slid shut once again, and he moved, his hands drifting downwards, one hand forcing itself between my lower back and the tree, the other moving to my jaw/neck area to hold my face. I could feel _something_. And no, not that _something_ you pervs. It was like something was unlocking in my brain. I could feel it, and it caused my pulse to quicken, like someone had injected me with a shit-load of adrenaline. Scott pulled back briefly, probably hearing my heartbeat pick up. His lips no more than two inches away from mine, and he only stayed away long enough to breathe out five words.

"You've got to control it."

And then he was back, like he hadn't even pulled back to speak. I knew what he was talking about. It was a sort of tingling feeling, in my hands and face, along with the feeling in the back of my head that I might kill someone. It was the worst feeling, and I could see why this was such a problem and it needed to be under control. I couldn't hurt someone that I loved, and if I had it unused control, I wouldn't. I'm pretty sure it was unintentional, but ascot had managed to pull me from my leaned back position against the tree to the ground, because I was suddenly feeling grass beneath me. He moved his lips from mine to my jawline, then to my neck, which made me gasp. My neck had always been an overly-sensitive spot. Even just hair brushing against the back or side of my neck would give me chills and send goosebumps throughout my body. But kisses? That was a different story. My body rippled with goosebumps before his lips even touched them, and it brought the wanting to rip someone's head off feeling to the top of my brain. My fingers curled hard, and I could feel that tingling feeling again in my fingers and face, but stronger this time.

"Fight it," he said between neck kisses. I was probably going to have hickeys along my neck, and I would have no way to explain them because I had been in "observation".

I was breathing heavy, trying to fight it off. This was totally the worst scenario for this. I was going to get revenge later, but I hadn't decided what it was going to be; that was kinds of difficult with the feelings of murder and lust on your mind, especially when they were both fighting for control. My body was struggling internally, mostly in my brain, the human side was fighting with the werewolf side. And right now, the werewolf side had the upper-hand. I could feel my canines become just a bit longer and my nails lengthen a fourth of an inch.

No, no, no. I would not let this happen.

I could control it.

I _can_ control it.

_I will control it_.

**.**

"You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. But could you give me the example one more time? I still have that cheesy werewolf stuck in my head." Scott did the transformation, showing off his werewolf features by smiling. It was hard to look at him without blushing, considering what had just happened minutes ago. "Okay, I think I've got it this time." The smile lingered on his face as he changed back, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I concentrated on what Scott had looked like, picturing the features on myself instead of him. This time, something felt different. I could feel the change happen, slow and gradual, not at all like Scott had done. It was like someone was apply layers of make-up or prosthetics on my face and that my nail beds were moving backwards, the nail-claws springing out of them. When the feeling of adding prosthetics ended, I knew I had changed completely. I wasn't going to open my eyes yet, because I didn't want to overstimulate my brain and lose the control I had right now. I curled my fingers gently towards my palm, feeling the claws scrape lightly against them. I could feel Scott smiling at me, and I could feel the corners of my mouth perk up in a somewhat smile.

I changed back into my normal human appearance - which was way easier than changing into a werewolf - and put my head in my hands.

"That was terrible."

"That was fine," Scott said, putting his hands on elbows and pulling them downwards to move my hands from my face.

**. . . . .**

I went back over to the couch, having made popcorn in the microwave. I had gotten used to Scott's house and had learned were everything was, considering it would be useful since I had to stay one more day at his house before I could actually return home. Scott was taking up the whole couch, an arm and a leg hanging off the couch. I dropped the bowl into his lap, which caused him to groan, considering at what height I had dropped it from.

"You know what that's for," I said as he sat up, and I plopped down onto the couch next to him. Neither of us had said anything about the mini makeout session that had occurred during my "werewolf training" and I don't think we ever would. We just acted like it had never happened, although it was nagging at the back of my mind all afternoon. I suggested that we watch a movie, mostly to distract myself from the thought.

We were going to watch The Lion King, the movie that had taken Scott and I at least a half an hour to decide on. During the movie we both made comments, such as "if you don"t cry when Mufasa dies you have no heart" and "yes because a meerkat and a warthog can successfully raise a lion cub to adulthood without dying" and "Rafiki is a crazy monkey and should not be trusted ever" and "shut up it's a kids' movie". And I bet you five bucks that he really wanted to belt out and sing all of the songs in the movie because who is anyone kidding, we know all of the lyrics by heart. At some point during the dramatic Pride Land lions versus Scar's hyenas fight scene, Scott fell asleep. I kept watching the movie until I could no longer keep my eyes open. It was that kind of sleep where you didn't fall asleep but when you woke up you were like "holy crap how long have I been out".

I was startled awake by something, most likely a falling dream. They were the worst, especially when you've slept in a bunk bed that you are too tall far. You hit your head a lot and I'm surprised I didn't get a concussion when I was at summer camp when I was little. Maybe I did. Who knows?

The main menu for the movie was up, the opening scene and music playing on a loop. I needed to turn it off before it gave me a headache, and granted I was too lazy to just get up and turn off the DVD player like a normal person. I looked around for the remote, finding it on the back of the couch on Scott's right side; the furthest place it could be from me, unless he had decided to throw the thing into the kitchen when I wasn't looking. I sighed internally and leaned towards Scott, trying to reach the remote. But it was too far away for me to reach, and I fell into him. I was reciting the word "shit" over and over in my head as it happened, because the only way I could stop myself from falling into him was pushing against him. I had accepted my fate as soon as it had began to happen, and to make matters worse, it felt like I was going in slow motion.

"Natalie?" Scott said, waking up with a start. _Shit shit shit shit. Abort abort! this is not a drill, I repeat, this is NOT a drill. _I pushed myself up, scooting back away from him.

"God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. Or fall into. I was just trying to get the remote to turn off the DVD player."

"It's okay," he said, laughing lightly and sitting up himself, rubbing his face

"No, I mean it. I'm sorry." I sighed. "I'm going to go to bed before I just start rambling."

I got up off the couch, walking up over to the stairs. Good thing Scott couldn't see my face as I was ascending the stairs, because there was a blush decorating my cheeks. I was glad that Melissa had suggested that the guest bedroom become my temporary bedroom, because that meant that I wouldn't have to sleep on the couch and have Scott or Melissa come downstairs and try and talk to me about what happened just now. I could just hide in the guest bedroom forever and never come out. I had a feeling that one of them would, most likely Scott since Melissa was not here to witness this but most likely heard it because she had those kind of mom ears that hear everything.

"Nat?"

I stopped on the stairs when Scott said my name, but I didn't say "yeah?" or turn to look at him. There was no more than a second of silence before he spoke again.

"Goodnight."

That just made me hurry up the stairs more quickly than I was already trying to do. During my trip up the top half of the stairs, down the hall and into the guest bedroom I have come to the conclusion that boys are stupid and you should never talk to them ever because they're stupid and make you like them. Just hit them with a stick and hope they go away.

* * *

**A/N: **The title of this chapter is a terrible pun and you should laugh because it is the chemicals (in the right quantities) for oxytocin, the "love hormone".

Oh, terrible science jokes. The best jokes...

I shouldn't be allowed on the internet.


	11. Hot Chocolate Fixes Everything

**A/N:** If you want to have a fantastic reading experience of this chapter, listen to "To Build A Home" by The Cinematic Orchestra (on repeat, in case it takes more than one loop for you to read this). I was editing and re-writing the good parts of this chapter to that song. _Listen to it to feel all of the feels and maybe cry a little bit._

_Also holy crap this chapter is 2,964 words, excluding this author's note._

* * *

My face was damp with tears - at least I think it was. I couldn't really feel anything right now. But I knew that I couldn't move from the spot I was sitting in on the floor of my living room, knees curled up to my chest. Breaths were hard to take in between heaving sobs, although they weren't as bad as they had been before. I had done something terrible. I heard the door bust open, but I didn't lift my face to see who it was; I just kept my gaze on the wall that was no more than a foot in front of me, not daring to look to _the spot. _It was my fault, I did it. I did it with my own two hands, my teeth, and I couldn't even stop. I couldn't look at my hands – no, I wouldn't. I wouldn't look at them. I could've stopped, but I didn't. I _tried _to stop, but it was useless. It was only after I had finished that I truly felt terrible, worse than I had been while I was doing it. I had stumbled backwards, falling onto my ass and scooting across the floor to the corner of the room, and curling up there. I knew who entered the room, naturally; I didn't even have to over to them. It was the two people who had actually had knowledge of my address; Scott and Stiles.

I had seen Stiles' bright blue jeep parked across the street earlier and I just assumed they were on babysitting me from afar, probably under a suggestion from Derek. I could be wrong, though. It could just be them wanting to keep tabs on me.

It was the second night of the full moon, and they needed - well, wanted - to keep watch on me in case something was to happen. Well, at least for me, it was the second night of the full moon. Every other werewolf had the full three nights, the day before the peak, the peak, and the day after the peak of the moon; in actuality, I had gotten the full three days, but being unconscious and not remembering the first night did not count as a night for me in my eyes. If I couldn't remember it, it didn't happen.

Even thought Scott had been training me the night before, that wasn't enough to stop me from doing something stupid. I was still getting used to this werewolf thing, and I couldn't be trusted. I was still a "baby werewolf" as Stiles would put it. I knew I couldn't be trusted; example A, the space on the floor seven feet from me. I shouldn't have even been in my own house. I should've stayed at Scott's house one more day, because then the full moon would've been over, and Scott would know what to do if I became rabid and ready to go on a murderous rampage. But I thought I had enough control, I thought I could spend one night at my house without anything happening. If all turned out well, I was going to go to school tomorrow. I was going to return, like nothing happened, and that all was well. Like I hadn't been dying in the first place. No one would be likely to remember me, and all of those who saw me on the day I went to return my books would not recognize me. I would look healthy, not like death was sitting on my shoulder as it had been before. But I guess my hopes were shattered; shattered to itty bitty pieces with a sledgehammer. I couldn't do that anymore. I had killed my mother, and there was a bloody mess of her body in the living room.

Someone was yelling something and my body was moving. I couldn't tell if the person was just yelling in general or yelling at me, but I could totally tell that the someone was shaking me roughly. Well, at least I think that was what was happening. Everything was blurry around me, and I could only see fuzzy shapes of things. It sounded like the person - maybe it wasn't a person? - was shouting through a tunnel, like it was taking too long for the person's words to reach my ears because everything sounded weird and distorted. Sounds, shapes, and people were all blurring together, and I couldn't tell on thing from another. It was like someone shoved cotton balls into my brain, poured a little bit of nail polish remover in there as well, and was stirring up my brain with a whisk. Then a voice punched through the veil of my little brain-numbing wonderland.

"Natalie, you've got to calm down."

The person wasn't actually yelling. More like loud whispering. The blurriness was beginning to dissolve around me, and I somewhat regained the ability to function properly. There was a constricting feeling blooming in my chest, and there was a sharp pain in my leg. Scott's face was in front of mine, and he looked like he was going to cry; his lip was trembling, but it was barely noticeable. His expression changed as my body gained some control over my muscles, taking them from the limp state they had been in to a state where they were able to hold their own weight; his eyebrows unpinched slightly, his face becoming less strained-looking.

"Natalie, Nat, are you with me?" His leg moved, adjusting the way he was crouching, giving himself more mobility. I was watching his face, not really looking at what we was doing; I just knew he was crouching in front of me, but I didn't know anything other than that. I could see an outline of Stiles behind his head, and he was pacing around like he was uncomfortable. I hadn't noticed that Scott had moved his hand onto mine until I felt its warmth there. Where was my hand? I could feel it, I just didn't know where it was. My brain was still a little fuzzy and I wasn't really able to respond to what he was saying. I wanted to, I tried to, but it wouldn't exit out of my mouth. It just floated around in my brain until the words died. "Nat, you need to breathe, okay?" He moved his free hand to the side of my face, and brushed a few strands of hair out of my face that were attached to my cheek by god-knows-what with his thumb. It was then that I realized that I wasn't really breathing, but I was somewhere between not really breathing at all and hyperventilating; that's what the pain in my chest was, and it was keeping my brain slightly out of the loop. I wasn't getting the oxygen my brain needed, but somehow I was conscious.

Scott gripped my hand tightly, pulling it gently but firmly away from wherever it was. That's when I felt a strong, stabbing pain in my upper leg. Then it clicked in my oxygen-deprived brain; I was - or had been, I wasn't completely sure which one - wolfed out, and at some point I had stabbed my claws into my leg. He was pulling whichever one it was - claws or fingers - out of my leg. I wanted to scream because of how much it hurt, but only a whimper came out of my lips. I could feel the wounds begin to heal up as soon as my fingers were out of the wounds; it felt like someone had pulled cotton balls out of them, and they were no longer full of something that shouldn't belong there. It would take a little bit to heal, but all of the wounds would be gone within the hour.

"Scott," I finally choked out, able to use my vocals cords once again. "I killed her." I could see Stiles glance over at me briefly before turning his head away, and Scott's expression quickly change from thankful to something I didn't recognize on his face. I had never seen it there before.

"It's not your fault," he said, sounding completely serious.

"It _is_ my fault."

"No, Natalie, listen to me. It is _not your fault._"

"Uh, Scott," Stiles said, stepping over to where Scott and I were. "We better get going. My dad could be here any minute. We don't know which of the neighbors called the police. God knows that screaming was-" He stopped flat, seeing the suddenly pained expression pop up on my face. Scott just shot him a glance, an expression I couldn't see because he face was turned. It must've been a glare, from Stiles reaction.

"Let's go," Scott said quietly, lifting me up in his arms and carrying me from the room, careful to keep my gaze from my mom. I buried my face into his chest, giving not fight for him to put me down and let me walk. To be honest, I didn't even know if I could right now. With all the effort it took just to speak, I'd probably collapse to the ground if he put me down on my feet.

**.**

They had taken me to Scott's house. Stiles had left, claiming he wanted to get a full night's rest for school tomorrow. It was sometime near 12:30. I guess four hours was a "full night's rest" for him. I couldn't remember how many hours I used to get to have a "full night's rest", but I'm pretty sure it was more than four. Dying had messed up my sleeping schedule, big time.

Scott had suggested that I should take a shower, and Melissa had seconded the notion. I hadn't protested, because I sure as hell did not want to sleep in these clothes. I'd probably burn them, so I'd never have to see them ever again. I already had enough triggers that threw me into panic attacks, and getting rid of these would eliminate one of the many.

I didn't even bother looking at myself in the mirror when I got into the bathroom, because I probably looked like a shitty, bloody mess. I just peeled off my clothes and took the quickest shower I could while still being able to feel clean. But I'd probably never feel clean again. I was washing off my mother's blood; that would stick with me forever. I ended up spending more time than I had originally planned on, but they didn't seem to mind. Luckily, I had left some clothes here by accident and Melissa gave them to me; the sports bra I had gotten from Cora and a pair of shorts. Scott provided me with one of his shirts, which was at least two times too big for me. It hung over frame like someone had draped a sheet over me.

He had let me pick out the one I was going to wear, leaving me in his room to go downstairs to get something. He wouldn't tell me what for, and I didn't care to ask him. After I pulled a navy blue v-neck I had picked out of his closet on, I ran my hands through my hair with my fingers, trying to detangle the wet mess on my head. It'd take a while to dry out, since my hair was pretty thick and insanely wavy. The back of this shirt was going to get soaked by the time it was dry. I sat down on the edge of the bed, putting my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. I closed my eyes, rubbed my forehead and let out a sigh. I wanted to cry all the feeling trapped in my body, but nothing would come out. I wish I could've cried, because then I would've felt better afterwords because of all of the hormones released into your brain.

There was a light knock on the door, and I pulled my head out of my hands to see Scott standing in the doorway, with two mugs in his hands. A small smile appeared on his lips, and I wasn't sure why. He walked over to the bed, holding out one of the mugs out for me.

"Here," he said. The mugs he held were full of something that was steaming; I had no idea what it was - I was to distracted to care - but something hot was better than nothing.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking the mug from him and wrapping my hands around it. He sat down next to me on the bed, and I just stared at the mug in my hands, letting the steam roll up from the cup and hit my face with warm wetness. There was no talking between us for a while, and Scott was the one to start up the conversation. He must've been thinking that I was wondering what was in the mug; I actually kind of was.

"It's hot chocolate. Mom used to make it for me when I had nightmares." Oh, so that's what it was. I lifted the mug from my lap to my lips and took a sip, burning my tongue when I did. The thought to blow on it to cool it at least a little hadn't crossed my mind at all. Even though I had burnt off my taste buds, I could still taste the deliciousness of the drink. It was better than anything other hot chocolate I had ever had; I'd have to get Melissa to teach me how to make it. It was sweet yet tasted like the 60% cocoa chocolate bars, which were my favorite kind.

"It's really good," I muttered into the lip of the mug, before taking another drink, the small smile that had been on Scott's face plaguing my lips.

**. . . . .**

Scott offered me his bed. I told him that he's got to be joking, that he should sleep in his own bed. He insisted, saying that he could sleep in the guest bedroom. I retorted with saying he'd have to come into his room to get his stuff for school in the morning. He tried to counter by saying that he could just bring all of the things he needed into the guest bedroom. In the end, I won the argument.

But what a terrible idea it was. I couldn't get to sleep at all, and when I was able to drift off, I woke up fighting the pillows and blankets and sheets that I was sleeping in. That happened a few times, before I came upon a decision; I grabbed a pillow from the bed and quietly exited the room, walking down the hall to Scott's door with light footsteps. I knocked lightly, and whispered "Scott!" as loud as I dared, wanting Scott to hear me but not wake up Melissa. I had to knock again and whisper just a bit louder to get any response from within the room. There was shuffling, and then the door opened to reveal Scott in a little bit too big tee shirt and a pair of loose pajama pants.

I probably looked like a little kid who had just had a nightmare, going to sleep with their parents.

"What is it, Nat? Bad dream or something?" he whispered in a sleepy voice.

"Yeah," I whispered back, I scratched my thigh absently where I had punctured my skin, not meaning to at all. "Bad dreams."

"Do I need to break out the hot chocolate?" A small smile perked up in the corners of his lips, but it was barely noticeable in the nearly-nonexistent light.

"No, I just...don't want to sleep alone."

"Come on in." He stepped back from the doorway and towards the bed, letting me enter. I followed him in, but as soon as I entered his room I began blinding reaching for him. I found his wrist and gripped onto it tight. I felt him turn around. "Nat? Are you okay?"

"No, Scott, I don't think I am." And then it hit me like a ten-foot-tall wave of raw emotion. My knees bent, and I lost the grip I had the pillow; I lost the grip I had on my emotions and the pillow was a convenient metaphor for it. I sucked in a shaky breath, and it all came pouring out. The tears started and I lost my ability to do any other function than cry. Scott freed his wrist from my hand, which was easy since all I could do was cry at the moment, wrapping his arms around my back and lifting me up slightly so I was properly standing up. He shut the door with his foot, lifting grounding his arms and carrying me over to his bed. He crawled onto the bed with me in his arms, sitting back against the headboard. He adjusted me in his lap so I was sitting comfortably before he pulled the covers up over both of us. He ran a hand through my now-slightly damp hair, dragging it down my back before he pressed his lips to my forehead, giving it a light kiss.

"It's going to be okay, Nat, I promise," he muttered into my forehead. "It's all going to be okay."


End file.
